


A Secret Shared

by framboise



Series: A Dæmon Bestiary of Westeros [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Daemon Taboos, Daemons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Multi, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, Past Abuse, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-25 00:58:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12024741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/framboise/pseuds/framboise
Summary: Lord Baelish once told her that she was a terrible liar but Sansa knows this cannot be true because she is hiding the wickedest, the very worst, secret of them all; a secret that if discovered would exile her from Westeros entirely.Because Jeyne – her plain, unassuming lady-in-waiting who is inseparable from her, who tends so carefully to her wounds from the beatings at court, who sleeps beside her every night – isn’t Sansa’s lady-in-waiting at all. But her dæmon.





	A Secret Shared

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  This is part of a series of canon-divergent His Dark Material AUs of various pairings. This story doesn’t take place in the same AU as the last.
> 
> Sansa has been aged up to her late teens.
> 
> I’ve taken some liberties again with the laws of the HDM verse. I find the trope of human dæmons fascinating so I wanted to have a go at my own…

 

 

Sansa knows that she is cursed, she knows that everything they say about her – that she is a traitor with traitor’s blood, and a wicked girl – is true. Because when her dæmon settles, at the very moment when she is being beaten on Joffrey's demand almost to death in front of the court, she settles in the form of a human girl.

A human dæmon is an abomination.

A human dæmon is something not even the vilest of people would ever _dream_ of, let alone attempt to bring into being; is never _ever_ spoken about beyond your first mention of it as a curious child who does not yet know the natural laws of the world.

But Sansa cannot hate her dæmon, Sansa is a loving girl despite what they say, and how could she hate, denounce, half of her own self? And the minute they are back in her rooms after her transformation, after Tyrion has put a stop to the beating a moment too late, Jeyne hugs her to her so tightly, her hands not hurting the wound on her back at all, and Sansa hugs her back, feeling safe and loved, no longer feeling so unbearably alone.

Her dæmon’s name has always been Lady but she decides that she wants to be called Jeyne instead, a common sort of human name, and Sansa agrees, thinking that it will only help the deception that will be needed now to cover up her true identity.

 

*

 

The first night after her transformation she lies next to Jeyne in bed and they consider each other. Jeyne is plainer than Sansa: her hair an unremarkable brown, her eyes dark, her features not particularly well-shaped; her body is softer, curvier than Sansa's lean form, her hands slightly larger but her feet the same size which will be useful for sharing slippers.

Jeyne explains what happened earlier that day and how she had changed into her current form behind a curtain in the antechamber where she waited. Joffrey had made Sansa put her dæmon in the room right next to the great hall because he does not like looking at it changing and wailing in front of him as he chastises her, even as Sansa herself has stopped making any sort of noise at the beatings. When a servant came into the room Jeyne hit her over the head with a vase so that she could steal the servant's dress, before hurrying back inside the great hall so that she could leave along with Sansa and not have their connection stretched painfully by the distance between them.

Jeyne would be plain in the eyes of anyone else, Sansa knows, but to her she is _beautiful_. And Sansa is reluctantly proud, and a little jealous, that Jeyne was bold and clever enough to steal that servant's dress; even if she also feels bad on behalf of the servant and hopes she does not get in trouble, and plans on making Jeyne point her out to her so that she can repay her in some way.

 _She looked so shocked when she saw me peek out of the curtain, naked as a babe_ , Jeyne says and laughs.

Sansa decides that Jeyne's laugh is one of the best things she has ever heard, high and musical, and she laughs too at the image of her dæmon appearing out of the curtain.

She sleeps holding Jeyne's hand that night, sleeps through until dawn for the first time in a long time, feeling comforted and warm.

 

*

 

But the next morning her small moment of comfort is swiftly snatched away when they discover that Sansa has flowered, as all girls do when their dæmons finally settle. And though she tries to, she cannot hide it from the maids, from Cersei who is wickedly excited that she has a new pawn to play with.

It is lucky that Cersei has always ignored plain-looking women, unless they stand in her way; lucky that most people and their dæmons ignore maids and ladies-in-waiting; that their eyes glance over Jeyne. Sansa is lucky that no one says anything when she has a new lady-in-waiting who spends all her time with her, shares her bed, walks arm in arm with her in the gardens.

Is it luck or is the gods? No matter how terrible this thing she has done, how blasphemous the form that Jeyne has taken, the gods do not seem in a hurry to destroy her just yet.

Sansa still owns a meagre pile of remaining jewels, some of them old gifts from Joffrey, and the same day Sansa wakes in a bed full of blood Jeyne helps her twist a few of them together into a little dæmon locket, of a size that might hold an insect. Sansa immediately takes to wearing it on a chain around her neck, resting the locket atop her dress so that everyone can see, can notice.

Joffrey's dæmon laughs when he sees it.

 _You can't fit a wolf in there, can you?_ Joffrey himself says _, How shameful for you to have a bug as a dæmon, how right. You are only a little bug yourself, are you not? I have always loved squishing bugs, I like the sound they make underneath my shoe_.

Joffrey could speak like this, could hint at touching and injuring her dæmon, because they were in his private rooms. If he had said this in front of the court would people have stopped him, would they have finally realised that he was a monster himself?

If Joffrey had a human dæmon, instead of that horrid golden snub-nosed monkey with its wicked face that settled a few moons ago; he would never be allowed to be King, the people would have dragged him from the throne and stoned him to death.

People have always felt slightly unnerved by simian dæmons, like Joffrey's, and Cersei's own monkey dæmon, because their faces seem so close to that of people.

Would Sansa still hate someone else's human dæmon automatically now? If she did not hate the owner as well? Does she only love Jeyne because she is _hers?_ Probably so.

Sansa knows that she has done wrong, that she is wicked, and that Jeyne is the sign of her own wickedness even though _Jeyne_ has not done anything wrong herself.

 

*

 

Her mistreatment at the hands of the King and the Lannisters continue, her debasement, but in a strange turn of events she finds a new outlet of comfort in the arrival at court of a man she has only known before through rumours, a man who it would not be assumed for her to make a personal acquaintance of.

Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, arrives at King's Landing, it is said, with a ship full of whores of both sexes, mistresses, snakes, and wine. The rumours lessen a little after the first week, when he has yet to strip himself naked in front of the court, or steal someone else' wife, put snakes in the ladies rooms. He only has one mistress, it has been discovered, who he calls his paramour, and everyone says that she is one of the most beautiful women in Westeros, that he is as protective of her as the viper of his namesake.

On the day she meets him, Sansa and Jeyne are taking a turn in one of the courtyards. It is empty of other people and the sun is shining, the songbirds flutter over the trees, and they have watched a grey squirrel scamper up and down the slim tree trunks searching for hidden food.

They are thinking about returning back to Sansa's rooms, when the notorious Prince comes striding along, hand in hand with his paramour. He bows his head at her in greeting. He is obviously in a hurry, and she does not expect a different greeting from a noble man like him to a disgraced maiden girl like herself; but then he stops short and she sees his paramour tug once, hard, on his hand. How strange.

"Good morrow, Prince Oberyn," Sansa says; dipping low, Jeyne curtseying just behind her.

The Prince looks at Sansa, and then he looks at Jeyne tucked behind her. His face breaks into a sudden smile, which makes Sansa tremble before she realises that it is not a cruel smile at all. He looks as if he has realised something, something wonderful. There are almost tears in his eyes, she thinks, but that must be the way the light is shining.

"My Lady Stark," he says, and bows deeply, with his paramour curtseying next to him almost to the ground. "It is truly wonderful to make your acquaintance."

He takes her hand and kisses it but it does not make her want to dash away her hand like when Lord Baelish does it.

"And the acquaintance of your lady-in-waiting as well..." he says, trailing off to ask for a name.

"Jeyne Woolfield," Sansa says, using the House name they have agreed upon but have rarely had to use, since no one is interested in the ladies-in-waiting of a traitor. Sansa is nervous suddenly that he is going to kiss _her_ hand too but he doesn't make a move towards her dæmon.

He bows his head towards her instead, "The Lady Jeyne," he says.

Sansa wonders if Jeyne's face is blushing at this marvelously handsome man, despite the danger. She has never seen Jeyne blush before; she is always the more composed of the two of them.

"This is Ellaria," he says, without identifying the women next to him beyond that. Sansa has heard that Dornish bastards are called Sand, but perhaps he does not like to remind people that she is illegitimate.

"Lady Ellaria," Sansa says, after a pause when she thinks about how to address her. They both seem so kind and courteous that it easy to call her a lady.

It is only when Sansa brings her head up from its brief bow, when she feels Jeyne suddenly start and grab her wrist tightly, that she notices.

That she notices that Ellaria is like Jeyne.

That Oberyn is like _her_.

That he has a human dæmon too.

 

*

 

Sansa almost faints at the shock and Jeyne and Oberyn both help her to a nearby bench, Oberyn careful not to touch Jeyne in the effort.

"You need a good sip of wine, I think," Ellaria says. Both her and Oberyn look concerned for her in a way that only Jeyne has, since she lost her family and friends. It makes Sansa want to cry but maybe that's the shock too.

"My paramour speaks the truth. Will you accompany us to my rooms?" he asks, looking at the both of them.

"Of course." Jeyne says and Sansa agrees; trusting Oberyn already, almost completely. For she knows a secret about him that would destroy him, and his House, and he knows the same secret about her.

"Have you ever met anyone else like us?" Sansa asks; once she has revived a little in the rich surroundings of his solar, with its draped fabrics of reds and oranges and gold, and warm smell of incense. They are alone in the room, with no attendants, and Oberyn has promised that no one can overhear them.

"No, we have not," Oberyn says, "I did not believe there was anyone like us in the whole world."

"It is strange then that we crossed paths," Sansa says.

"Or it is fate." Oberyn says, his face then darkens."We have heard, my lady, about your abominable treatment here. We have heard about what those traitors the Lannisters have done. Stripping and beating you in front of court–" he stands up and stalks back and forth. He puts a hand on his chest, pushes it in as if he could breach his flesh. "I am pained for you Lady Stark but I know that I only feel the barest edge of your own pain."

Sansa brings up her hands to cover her face, she cries. Jeyne, sitting next to her on the couch, tucks her under her arm.

"My paramour is not the most delicate of conversationalists," Ellaria apologises, "he should not have stated it so boldly."

"No apology is needed," Sansa says, "I prefer people to be straightforward with me now, in truth, even if it may hurt."

There in his solar, drunk with shock and relief and wine, feeling a kinship with Oberyn that she has felt with nobody else, not even her family; she spills out the whole of her life story, such as it is, such that it is small and poor of good deeds, to him. And in turn he tells her parts of his, shares with her the moment that Ellaria settled and the hurts he has suffered, the wondrous things he seen and experienced on his travels.

She drifts back to her own room as if in a dream, and stays up whispering with Jeyne in bed for many hours yet; talking about how wonderful Oberyn and Ellaria are, what strange luck brought them here now to King's Landing.

 

*

 

Their meetings with Oberyn and his paramour continue and all the rest of life at court, all the barbs and hurts, seem to slide right off her; she feels as if she has grown the thinnest armour around her heart.

Jeyne likes meeting with Oberyn because she doesn't need to wear such long sleeves and high necks, since he knows who she is and he won't touch her unless she wishes it, and she is wearing a new dress tonight. They them made it together from scraps of fabric taken from Sansa's old dresses and a few dusty forgotten dresses Jeyne had stolen from the corner of the laundry rooms while Sansa kept watch nearby, ready with an excuse. Sansa stitched the red embroidery on the neckline because she has the better skill at it.

How did Jeyne develop a skill for sewing when she was previously most often a wolf who could not hold a needle? Neither of them are sure. There are still so many mysteries, Sansa often muses, about dæmons, even as she knows that she likely only ponders the subject because she is looking for a loophole, for some explanation for Jeyne that she might hold up to show people to tell them that she is not an abomination after all.

They meet in Oberyn's rooms again. They have decided that a meeting there once every few weeks will not cause too much alarm or start too many rumours. Everyone knows about Oberyn's fondness for women, and no one except the Lannisters and Baratheons who _know_ that she is still a maiden, believes that she was not compromised by Joffrey. No one cares about her honour because they do not think she has any, which Ellaria had explained to her, ruefully. _But the court can hang themselves_ , she had added. Ellaria says such wicked things sometimes, even Jeyne admires her bravery.

"Dæmons in Dorne settle later than in the rest of Westeros," Oberyn is explaining as they drink wine and eat the lemon cakes he orders, ever since finding out from Jeyne about Sansa's favourite sweets.

"We do not share the same, hmm, puritanical beliefs as those of other lands, we have more freedoms. Our dæmons settle late because of, others argue, our wild and _licentious_ ways," he winks at her and she laughs.

Jeyne nudges Ellaria with her toe as if to jest, _how can you bear to live with him_.

"Why choose a snake for your false dæmon?" Sansa asks.

"Snakes can be trained to wrap around the body," he says, lifting his hand and letting the snake curl and droop onto his lap, "can be drugged by poisons to keep them docile."

"How clever," Sansa says.

"I think it more clever to wear an empty locket around one's neck," Ellaria says, "Despite what he says, it's such a fuss to remember to drug the snake and drain it regularly of its own venom too so it does not kill him - because god forbid the Red Viper have a non-venomous snake dæmon. _And_ it still has a strong bite that has nipped the both of us before."

"I seem to remember, my love, that it was you who picked out the type of snake. You said its markings were pretty."

"I was a fifteen year old girl! You should not have listened to me."

"I listen to you in all things, you know this," he looks at her with such love and she kisses him fondly.

Sansa likes listening to them talk to each other and jape. She compares it to how Jeyne and her are together and decides that since Sansa and Jeyne are both bruised from their time at court; they are not yet ready, might never be, to have the same teasing manner with one another. That what they look for is comfort and a directness in their feelings above all else.

Sansa would like to be looked at like he looks at Ellaria, by a man like Oberyn, at least once. But she doesn't want to give up Jeyne for that to happen. This future, impossible, man she decides, must love them both equally. She squeezes Jeyne's hand at the thought and Jeyne squeezes back.

 

*

 

They occasionally meet at night too, in the godswood. Although their conversations might bring them trouble if they are seen, the presence of Jeyne and Ellaria as chaperones allows them to meet like this in public, hides the fact that there is only one man and one woman here alone. Sansa and Oberyn themselves do not think of their dæmons the exact same way as everyone else though, how could they? The line, the difference, between dæmon and human to them does not seem like a strict demarcation.

Tonight, the wind gusts in from the sea, clearing the smells of King's Landing for a few scant hours. The breeze lifts the leaves above them on the tree, teases Sansa's hair loose. Jeyne sits, as she often does, at her feet, head propped on her human's thigh and Sansa's hands plait her hair, a nervous habit.

“I do not know why she settled thus, I cannot understand it," Sansa muses.

“I can,” Oberyn says. He is sitting next to Ellaria on his bench, holding her hand, the false snake dæmon draped across his shoulders like a necklace.

“You were all alone and you had lost faith in everything you had ever known. You were all alone, with the weight of your father’s death on your heart," he says, "The fate of an army, the fate of the entirety of the north on your back, or at least you believed so. You felt you held _the north_ , why wouldn’t you have created someone to hold it with you," he reaches across to hold her arm, "You had, I believe, nothing left to lose.”

“Is that why Ellaria settled in her form?”

He smooths his other thumb across his dæmon's hand. “Alas, the cause was not as worthy, I think, as yours," he sighs, "I was heartbroken from the loss of Elia, Elia who had been like a twin to me. I raged against all the strictures of Westeros, the customs that had encouraged her to marry and put her faith in her husband and her husband’s family to keep her safe. What good, I remember thinking, were the rules of Westeros, if even when followed they could not keep you safe?”

Sansa can understand that; it makes sense. To her now it is strange that more people do not have human dæmons, that others do not know the comforts they bring, even though they bring endless dangers too. "I love Jeyne as she is but sometimes I wonder why she didn't settle as a man, as a warrior who might be able to protect me with a sword," she says.

“She protects you in her own way." Oberyn argues, "Perhaps you were too wary of men, naturally, after seeing the very worst of us, men like Joffrey. And it is clever of her, of you, because a man would not be able to linger at your side, to share your bed, a man who followed you would be remarked upon.”

"He's clever, this Oberyn, you should listen to him more." Jeyne says.

"His head is big enough already, Jeyne." Ellaria says and laughs when Oberyn pouts at her.

 

*

 

But this evening is just a brief pause in the horrors of court. It is in fact only a precursor to worse, for the next day Sansa is told that the Lannisters are planning on marrying her to Tyrion.

It is Lord Baelish who tells her, and he promises that he is doing everything he can to stop it from happening. But Sansa does not believe in other people's promises; she does not trust Lord Baelish neither.

She goes to Oberyn, wishing that she did not appear before him so often in tears. Oberyn hugs her to him. Ellaria, holding onto Jeyne, curves around her back. If she could just stay here, she thinks, safe and loved in their arms.

But that is a foolish dream for a foolish girl.

Oberyn says that if he finds no other way of halting the marriage he will smuggle them out to Dorne. He says that he has been planning to smuggle her out since he first realised who Jeyne was, that he would not allow a pair such as them, a gift from the gods as he puts it (although are Jeyne and Sansa a gift to one another or are they to Oberyn and Ellaria?) to stay here. He says that he is not the kind of man that would allow a noble maiden to stay and be hurt by the Lannisters anyway.

But plans are still just plans, and any boat is still not ready, when Cersei wakes her up one morning by tugging her arm out of bed, sneering at Jeyne when she bolts out of the other side to dress lest Cersei's arm accidentally brush against her.

Cersei has come to fit Sansa into a dress, a dress for a _special occasion_ , she says.

"A wedding?" Sansa asks, because she does not like having to always pretend that she lacks her wits.

"Why yes, my little dove," she says, clutching her chin between her fingers.

When Cersei's back is turned, demanding more wine from a servant and a seat to rest on, Jeyne squeezes Sansa's arm quickly and then steps back away.

Will this morning be the morning of her wedding day? What can Oberyn do now to stop it, how can she get a message to him?

It may have been supposed to be her wedding day, but it is Tyrion himself who provides the necessary delay.

She can hear him through the door of the room in the Tower of the Hand that she has been led to, with Jeyne, to wait for her fate.

“I will not marry the lady Stark," Tyrion is saying, "I will not marry her until she allows me to see her dæmon, until my own may speak with hers. It is barbaric to do otherwise, to marry before our dæmons have set eyes on one another.”

Tywin slams open the door and drags her in by the arm.

He orders Jeyne to stay behind when she follows; and the girls' eyes meet with a nervous, fortifying look before the door is once again closed.

If Sansa is taken anywhere else, If she is in true danger here, she knows that Jeyne will come right through that door, that no one could stop her. But she prays that this does not happen and that Jeyne is not hurt, as she would be, on her behalf. She does not want Jeyne to ever get hurt.

"I am sure you heard my son through the door, his voice was so loud, his manner so unreasonable. So, please let us out of our misery, Lady Sansa, and let him meet your dæmon so this farce can be over," he orders, dragging her in front of Tyrion who looks half drunk and furious.

Tyrion's lion dæmon is standing opposite Tywin's old lion, the both of them growling at one another. People have remarked often about the fact that of his children only Tyrion has the Lannister lion for a dæmon, although Jaime is the next closest with his leopard.

"No," she says.

"What did you say?"

"No," she repeats, curling her hand around the little empty locket on her chain.

Cersei, because of course she is in the room to see Sansa's torment too, stalks closer and slaps her across her face. Sansa prays that Jeyne will not come in, tries to send her a message through the air that she is alright.

Still she says no, and refuses to unclasp her hand.

It is a gamble, but it turns out that the Lannisters are not vile enough, vile as they are, to cross that final taboo, to touch her dæmon without her consent. Joffrey might be, but he is not here today, he is busy with his current betrothed; and they send her back to her room unmolested, with Cersei promising that she will have no dinner until she agrees, with Tywin ordering his daughter to fix the situation or face the consequences.

The marriage has been postponed but how can she make sure it never goes ahead?

 

*

 

Oberyn spirits her and Jeyne out of her room that night and brings them to his own.

He and Ellaria hug them both, apologise for not being able to save Sansa from her ordeal. They eat the dinner that Cersei had forbidden her and then the four of them sit in a sprawl on his couch which is truly more like a bed, it is so large and luxurious and plush with pillows.

Jeyne asks Oberyn to tell them more about Dorne and he does, with Ellaria interjecting at regular intervals. Sansa tries to send her mind there, to picture herself walking down the corridors of Sunspear, listening to the bazaars outside, watching the spear fighters train in the courtyard and burning her tongue on peppers at dinnertime, sleeping in the softest silks in a bed beside Jeyne.

Oberyn has spoken of the four daughters he left behind in Dorne, and of their ordinary (but to him, since he is their proud father, quite extraordinary) dæmons, of how they and his brother and Arianne are the only ones who know his and Ellaria's secret, and Sansa and Jeyne say they would love to meet them someday.

"Why have you never married?" Sansa asks.

"I am the secret shame of my family for this reason and others," Oberyn says, "and I came here to King's Landing on Doran's behalf as part of my penance to him for being gifted with such a brother. I can never marry, never share a life with a woman who might mother my daughters instead of just giving birth to them. For no woman would accept Ellaria, and what she meant to me. Thank the gods then for Arianne, who will be a far better ruler than I could be."

"I do not want Sansa to marry Tyrion," Jeyne says in a small voice.

Oberyn reaches a hand out to brush Jeyne's cheek. "She will not have to marry Tyrion, you will not have to marry anyone you do not wish to, I swear it."

Ellaria frowns a little as he says this words but nods too. Perhaps she has seen, Sansa thinks, Oberyn swear too many vows, promise too many impossible things.

Oberyn says that Sansa will not have to marry Tyrion but, though she believes that _Oberyn_ believes that truly, she feels she must prepare for her wedding to occur.

"I do not want Tyrion to be the first man who ever lies with me, with us" she says, sitting upright on the couch.

"He shall not be, you shall not lie with anyone you do not wish to lie with," he repeats.

"I wish," Sansa says, and feels Jeyne squeeze her hand in bravery and then sees the same hand reach for Ellaria's from the corner of her eye, "I wish to lie with you. You and Ellaria."

For a moment she is terrified that he and Ellaria do not lie together as she and Jeyne do but then she remembers seeing them kiss.

It was a natural thing, Jeyne and Sansa's exploration of each other, the pleasures they found at night in their bed with fingers and mouths and body rubbing against body. It is not perverse if they lie together, many girls do, even Margaery had said so; _she_ had even asked if Sansa might spare Jeyne for her own bed. Margaery seems to be a woman who is uncommonly fond of other women, and she has been the only one to ever really notice Jeyne.

"We would like that too," Ellaria says, sweeping a hand down Jeyne's arm and making Sansa shiver. It is strange how touch can evoke different feelings, how a press of a hand on the arm can be soothing or a warning or an expression of desire, a touch that ignites the nerves in the rest of her body too.

"But it shall not be the last time we are together," Oberyn says, as he lifts Sansa over to lie underneath him, his eyes glinting hot, "I swear it."

He lifts her skirts and mouths her through her smallclothes, tugs them off too and licks into her; as Ellaria uses her fingers on Jeyne; sending both human and dæmon into paroxysms of pleasure. But Jeyne does not lie underneath for long, she twists the two of them over, hands catching Ellaria by the shoulders. Oberyn leans around and bites at Jeyne's ankle gently and Sansa moans. He strips her of her dress and sucks at one nipple while Ellaria reaches over to tweak the other.

Sansa tangles her fingers in Jeyne's hair as she peaks, and then they shift about on the couch until Sansa is in front of Jeyne with Ellaria behind her, and Oberyn in front of Sansa, working his fingers and then his cock slowly into her.

Hands smooth over her from behind and she reaches back to stroke any skin she can find, gasps fill the air, sweat slicks her back as Jeyne mouths at her neck. How will she ever lie with someone who does not have a human dæmon, Sansa thinks, as she drifts to sleep after they have all found completion three or four times, how could she ever be satisfied with that?

 

*

 

The nights with Ellaria and Oberyn have filled her head up so much that she has gotten forgetful. Jeyne has made her forgetful too; she spends her time in the great hall searching out Jeyne's face in the crowd and thus has forgotten to watch for anyone else who might look at _her_. She has forgotten that, though the Lannisters believe she is a useless thing, chattel, a silly little bird; there are others who still wish to use her.

She does not see the mockingbird dæmon watch her from above, nor do the girls realise, when they walk away from the hall and duck into a little dusty solar that has been empty since she first came to court, that someone is following them

Sansa and Jeyne sit themselves on the couch at the end of the room, near the wall of empty shelves, peering out at today's weather.

"Good morrow, Sansa," a voice says, splitting the quiet of the room. "Good morrow, _Jeyne_ ," Lord Baelish says and the both of them know that he _knows_.

Sansa stands up and Jeyne ducks back against the shelves.

"It is to my shame that it took so long to notice," Lord Baelish says as he comes into view beyond the streams of dust from the windows, "but once I did I became curious about this Jeyne _Woolfield_ that appeared suddenly at court, that hovers at your back like a shadow wherever you go. My spies tell me that you sleep with her in the same bed, that you touch one another in the manner that some girls do, although there is nothing wrong with that."

He smiles with such horrifying lust.

Sansa should have called Jeyne _Snow_ , she realises with utter horror now; but she did not want to give Jeyne a bastard surname, she did not want her to feel even a part of the shame Jon felt as a bastard at Winterfell. How foolish she was! Jeyne would have taken safety over any bastard name, any perceived shame that now Sansa has become an outcast herself she thinks is meaningless and wrong.

"My spies also tell me that you are laying with Oberyn. Poor little thing, he will not _save_ you, no matter what you offer him; he discards whores like flies once he has taken away their children," he clucks his tongue.

He is a monster. How had her mother ever been friends with him as children; how did Sansa ever think he might one day be a friend to her?

"My spies also tell me, my lady, that you do not ever take off that dæmon locket around your neck, that you do not ever talk to it when you were alone, that it does not talk back; that there is nothing _in_ that locket."

"Please, my lord, I will do anything–"

"I imagine you will," he says, and hates the undertone of his voice but she _will_ do anything to stop people discovering her secret, she will do anything he wants to save Jeyne.

She begs him but he shushes her with an imperious wave of his hand. He has her trapped and he feels he can say anything now, can truly gloat and wallow in his cleverness.

"It took me too long to work it out, I readily admit it, I am supposed to be renowned for my cunning, after all. But you must forgive me, because the truth as it turns out is so utterly strange, strange and wondrous."

"Please, Lord Baelish, please," she says, stepping backwards as he begins to stroll forward, a hand behind her as if she could shield Jeyne who has tucked herself up by the wall, shivering, her body curled inwards as Sansa has never seen before.

Now in this room Jeyne feels more a dæmon to Sansa than she has done anywhere else, vulnerable in a way neither are used to since no one else ever responds to her as a dæmon or knows her identity; a pale shadow of the something _more_ that she is allowed to be when they are with Oberyn and Ellaria.

“I have heard tell," he says, "of certain whores who are rumoured to have human dæmons, and it is a common mummery I teach those in my own brothels. But every rumour I have ever investigated has been false,” he walks closer, “until now.”

His smile is so lascivious; he looks at Sansa with such hunger she can almost feel it on her skin.

“To think that _sweet_ Sansa Stark, that the beauty I have watched, the girl far more lovely that even her mother ever was, is also the whore I have longed for. Who knew you had such _perversities_ hidden by this innocent face of yours, such lusts.”

He has reached out to hold her face in his hands; gentle, soft, cruel hands that wish to own her, to keep her, to trap her in his web.

“I didn’t make her do it. I don’t know why she settled that way,” Sansa pleads as if it might turn him away.

She has no worries that what she and Jeyne do with Oberyn and Ellaria is perverse and wrong. This man is perverse and wrong; what the four of them do together is love, not ownership.

“ _Nonsense,_ " he says, "Take the complement, sweetling. _Own_ your actions.”

She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. He kisses her on the forehead and his lips are cold like ice.

Then he steps around her, batting her away and she stumbles weakly. He approaches Jeyne and Sansa tries to pull him back but she cannot. She has always been so _weak_.

He touches Jeyne by the face and both girls cry out at the pain, the horror, the wrongness. It is like her inside are being gouged, her heart torn apart; their voices become one sound of terror.

He traps Jeyne by the wrists and kisses her deeply and Sansa wants to die; she feels so utterly ashamed for letting this happen to her sweet, blameless dæmon.

Lord Baelish steps back with a chuckle, he has had his fun for now. He turns back to Sansa, for he shall kiss her now as well, shall probably start stripping her here as she stands.

"Sansa sweetling," he says, "dry your tears." His face looks incandescently satisfied.

But all through his speech, his stalking closer, his abominable acts; his own dæmon, the mockingbird called Silver; has hovered overhead, watching as she always watches, taking pleasure from it.

And only now has she alighted on a shelf near them. Only now is she close enough for Jeyne herself to grab.

Jeyne snatches his bird and tugs a feather from its wing. She plucks another, and another.

Lord Baelish cringes back and stumbles into an armchair, pleading with her dæmon, with Sansa. His face looks just like Sansa imagines hers did before the court, and she is mesmerised, relieved, horrified, worried too about what Jeyne might do, what she might be brought to do now that is _her_ who is being threatened when Sansa knows how fierce she can be on her behalf.

She turns to Jeyne, who looks as if she is a girl who has been hunting in the woods, and stares at the mockingbird in her fists as it begs them in its high little voice.

And then she hears, behind her, the creak of a floorboard, a slick sound, then a muffled groan.

The mockingbird in Jeyne's hand starts to glitters at the edges and seize and Jeyne drops it the floor.

Sansa turns around to see Oberyn with one hand over Lord Baelish's mouth and a bloodied knife in the other. Ellaria stands at his side looking like the Mother made flesh. He has slit his throat and killed him.

"I am sorry that we are late, my loves," he says softly, even as the blood continues to bloom down Lord Baelish's front.

"I'm sorry also that I could not allow you to do it yourself," he says, and tears bead in Sansa's eyes, "that I would not let Jeyne do this on both your behalf."

Sansa gasps a cry and runs to Ellaria who hugs her to her, kisses her across her face. Jeyne joins them too, weeping in relief, for Sansa knows that she did not truly want to kill Silver.

 

*

 

They escape on Oberyn's boat. Sansa worries about the repercussions of killing Lord Baelish but he says that he has many enemies and that Oberyn's men have laid a trail towards another reprehensible man. And then they find out by raven two days into their trip that Joffrey has been poisoned at his own wedding and Ellaria says that it is good that they were not there for Oberyn and his poisons to be blamed, that it will overshadow the death of Littlefinger now.

Oberyn reveals to them that Littlefinger was responsible for Sansa's fathers death, for Jon Arryn's death and the entire treachery against the north, and Jeyne says that if she were back in that room she would not have stopped plucking until his dæmon was naked as a chicken made for the pot.

It takes a few days for Sansa to realise that she is free, that she sails now to a new life of freedoms. That she may shed the skin of the traitor with traitor's blood, that she will never have to stand in that great hall again.

She will bear the inner wounds for years to come, she knows, and her future is not quite as certain as Oberyn believes, but there are possiblities now, a new home, and _love_.

She meets Oberyn at the bow of their boat one night, Ellaria and Jeyne safe asleep in their bed nearby. They stare at the waves that rush past, the moonlight dancing off the foam.

“Why is Jeyne the way she is?" Sansa asks him as the night cloaks them. "Why did Lady change and settle into such a form?”

“Because you were so very alone,” Oberyn says.

“But many people are alone, many people are hurt and have nothing else to lose, hurt far worse than me. Why not them?”

“Maybe because we were meant to find one another, my lady. It’s like a song.”

“I don’t believe in songs anymore.”

“Believe in this one," he says and kisses her, then leads her back to their loves.

 

*

 

Sansa marries Oberyn and only a very few in the Sept see that Ellaria, Oberyn's dearest paramour, and Jeyne, Sansa's dearest friend, link hands at the same moment their humans do.

News of her marriage, of her safety in Dorne, spreads out slowly and eventually brings to her two visitors she never thought she'd see again.

Her brother Jon arrives one morning at Sunspear and Sansa thinks it a lie that he is here, when a guard comes and fetches her and Jeyne.

She thinks it must be a pretender who has come to see her, and how cruel when she has heard from the Wall that her brother had died there, that she is truly the last Stark left.

There has been a rumour from the north, Oberyn had reluctantly told her last week, that her brother Rickon has taken Winterfell, and _that_ lie, for she is _sure_ that it is a lie or a trick after all she heard about the Greyjoys taking Winterfell, has made it difficult to sleep.

But there Jon is, in the solar, looking rumpled and uncomfortable at the luxury of his surroundings, with his dæmon direwolf Ghost at his feet. There is her brother Jon, and she runs to him and he picks her up in his arms, crushing her to him.

"I wasn't sure to believe it, when they said that you were here, alive. Gods, Sansa."

"I thought you were dead," she says, voice muffled by tears. Ghost is snuffling at her side, heavy body pressed right up against her.

"I came back," Jon says.

He steps away to look at her and his eyes fix on the locket around her neck that she still wears – because free as they are in Dorne the people would still not accept a human dæmon. Ghost raises his head and looks at it and whines; Jon hovers his hand above it, looking as if he might cry.

"When I came back-" he says and pauses. His eyes flick over to where Jeyne waits a few steps behind and Sansa nods at him to continue.

"Ghost was different, wilder. A witch brought me back and now he can range far from me just like a witch's dæmon." He admits it, like he has done something terrible.

"I don't care," she says, "I think it's wonderful, special, to have a dæmon like that."

Jon grins at her; she strokes Ghost's massive head and he preens under her hand, murmurs her name in his gruff voice.

But inside she is quivering, thinking that now she has to share her _own_ secret, and will Jon be so understanding? Will he shun her now so that she loses her last real family?

"Jon," she says, nervous tears rolling down her cheeks, "Jon, something happened to my dæmon too."

"She was hurt?" he whispers, a look of such anguish on his face.

She shakes her head, "It is terrible, you will run away from me. I am terrible, wicked."

"You are not wicked," Jeyne and Jon both say at the same time, and he looks up at Jeyne in confusion again.

Jeyne walks closer and Sansa takes her hand. She has never had to explain to anyone new before – Oberyn and Ellaria knew automatically, and Doran and Oberyn's daughters had already known and accepted another human dæmon before they met hers.

"Jon," she says, "This is Jeyne," she takes a deep breath and Jeyne squeezes her hand. "Her name used to be Lady,"

Jon's eyes are wide open, Ghost's ears are pricked.

"This is my dæmon."

"But how?" Jon whisper, "how did this happen?"

"I don't know," Sansa said. "You might have heard that the Lannisters treated me badly, abused me. Joffrey had me beaten in front of the court by his Kingsguard and Jeyne settled as she did right then."

Ghost has inched closer, sniffed at Jeyne and raised his head. Now, Jon and Sansa watch as Jeyne puts out a shaking hand to touch him and Ghost's tail start to wag as she does; _hello Jeyne,_ the wolf says.

Sansa brings her hands to her face.

"Oh, don't cry, lovely girl," Jon says, hugging her again.

"They're happy tears," she answers.

"I can't say that this isn't strange, that people wouldn't think it strange," he says, "but it also feels right. I can't explain it," he shakes his head.

Jeyne looks shy, Sansa has never seen her shy before.

"Your dæmon is very beautiful," he says, endearingly serious.

"You've still got a way with girls then," she teases and he scoffs in reply.

"You know, when I saw her come in with you, I thought that she was your– your– _girl_ , and I was confused but already planning in my head how I would smuggle you both out of here if Oberyn was keeping you against your will."

Sansa beams at him, her chivalrous brother.

He scrubs a hand across his face and nervous smile.

"Come here then, sweet girl," he says softly, to Jeyne, and she stumbles over and in to his arms.

Sansa feels she could die of happiness right now, except she obviously does not want to die because she has so much more to do, more life to live, and Oberyn would be distraught.

As if called by her thoughts he and Ellaria come dashing through the door.

"I heard–" he says, and then stops when he sees Jeyne in Jon's arms.

They break apart from one another.

"This is your brother then," he says with a smile.

"Prince Oberyn, meet my brother Jon Snow, or Jon Stark as I have thought of him often in my heart these past few years. Jon, meet Prince Oberyn Martell, the man who saved me from King's Landing, who saved my life."

Oberyn is wearing his snake and she will not introduce Ellaria to Jon just yet, imagining that one human dæmon is enough for now.

"I am honoured to meet you," Jon says with a bow.

"And I you," Oberyn says. "It is not often I meet a man who has come back from the dead. Tell me, how did you do it?"

"There was a witch," he says.

"Ah, I think I have heard this song. Was she very beautiful?"

"Yes," Jon says.

"But mad too," Oberyn adds.

"Yes," he laughs.

"They always are."

Oberyn calls for wine and food and they settle on couches in the room.

Once Sansa has recovered from her shock she says to the room, "It is so good not to be the last, the last Stark."

"You aren't," Jon says, and he swallows the food in his mouth quickly. "We aren't. Sorry, I was so out of sorts just now that I forgot you did not know. Rickon is _alive_ , and Bran is–" Jon rubs his chin, ruefully, "well he's living too."

Jon tells her about Rickon, Warden of the North, whose dæmon Shaggydog has settled as a direwolf larger than any men have seen for centuries. A direwolf that he rode on, to the fear of his enemies.

He tells her about Bran, that he has become the Three-Eyed Raven and lives inside the heart tree along with Summer. Jon reminds her of how, as a child, Bran’s wolf had sometimes been covered in moss, or had twig-like antlers peeking out near his ears; of how their father had sat him down and told him that the presentation of his dæmon was important, that he would not be able to become a knight if there were things not-quite-so-normal about his dæmon, remnants of the old mythic beasts that the dæmons of the First Men took.

Sansa talks often with the three of her loves about dæmons – how could they not talk about that topic so close to their hearts, so uppermost in their thoughts? They have spoken about all the different forms of dæmon, how they don't have to have seen a particular animal to be able to change into its shape, how the animal whose form they take may come from a country far away; how animals themselves do not have dæmons; why they settle; and all the myths about people born with two or none.

Oberyn talks of the different cultures he has seen through his travels, like the Dothraki who are known for their horse dæmons and their horses; who balance on the two of them during battles – one foot on dæmon and horse respectively – and confuse the eye so that their enemies are dead before they can decide which is the real horse and which is the dæmon they should aim for.

Now – having swiftly revealed Ellaria's true identity, and shocked Jon all over again, Jon who then says that he should have known because Ellaria is just as beautiful as Oberyn is handsome and then blushes – the group of them talk about dæmons and Bran.

They ponder if it is possible for a dæmon to take the form of a plant, even if that is a fanciful thought. Because some plants move do they not, even it is very slowly. What would be the difference between a waterborn dæmon, who anchors a man to the shore; and a plant dæmon who would fix them near a patch of earth? And plants can be carried around, Sansa argues, in a pot that they could sling on their backs. Maybe those tales of children born without dæmons are actually tales about children with flower dæmons, tree dæmons.

Thinking about it all makes Sansa dizzy.

Jon stays with them for several moons – becoming good friends with Oberyn, and Ellaria, who continues to tease him and make him blush – and, as if his presence has drawn the other "last" Stark to them, one day a boy appears at the door of the palace. A boy who is not a boy, but a girl called Arya.

Arya too has had a long and difficult journey and is scarred like them, from her troubles.

Eventually she tells them her story; tells them about Needle, her dæmon, and how the both of them were voluntary separated during her training to become a Faceless Man. She says all of it with her chin raised stubbornly, with the fur on Needle's back bristling with readiness, but Sansa tells her she has nothing to fear from Sansa and Jon's judgement. That if anyone would understand it would be them, it would be family.

What strange fate, Oberyn muses, have the gods given the Stark family. How strong, Ellaria says, were they all to survive, how special.

 

*

 

Jon goes back to the north to help Rickon rule, promising he will visit again one day, and a torrent of ravens soon arrive from Winterfell. Jon says that they have heard rumours about creatures from beyond the Wall that the free folk call White Walkers.

The White Walkers bring winter with them and walk upright like men; and they think like evil, devious men; but they do not have dæmons, to the horror of any man that encounters them. Jon says that they covet dæmons so much that they reanimate the dead, that they have an army of dead but no dæmons of any kind; that this army threatens to invade Westeros.

Arya heads back to King's Landing to complete her list and then travels north to help her brothers.

Jon and Arya both report back on their first sight of this army and these half-men after scouting beyond the Wall. He says that the north plans to fight in this war against the dead and he convinces Oberyn and his brother to send some of Dorne's army to follow him and Daenerys, the dragon queen, the last Targaryen who is _not_ the last Targaryen, once Jon's identity becomes known.

Once he discovers that he too can change his dæmon into a dragon; once the two of them complete their quest for Valyrian armour to protect their giant fire-breathing dæmons.

The armies of man win and the White Walkers are defeated. Daenerys takes the throne and her own choice of husband; and Jon goes north to become King of the North, because Rickon does not want to be king after seeing the horrors of war, he does not want the responsibility any longer, he wants to wander freely, to find adventures like a knight - or a wilder more northern version of a knight, Arya says fondly.

Jon says it is painful for his childhood dream of being Lord of Winterfell to be realised, with the loss of Ned and Catelyn and Robb, with so much pain that precludes it, and he and Sansa send ravens back and forth, sharing their memories; soothing each other's hurts; arguing that the other should not feel guilty and regretful, even as they know that they should listen to their own advice.

Sansa eventually bears Oberyn six children, all girls, to join the four daughters he already has. She names her first two Catelyn and Arya, and the next four: Obella, Dorea, Loreza, and Elia.

Only one of Oberyn's daughters has a dæmon who settles as a human, a boy, though not after any great trauma. This daughter and her dæmon are not satisfied to stay secretive like their parents do, to not understand, and they travel to the citadel to study and to investigate the oldest of scrolls; and then take a journey across the known world and beyond, looking for answers to fundamental questions about souls and dæmons.

One day on a tall snowy mountaintop they see, as if through a glowing veil, a city with strange architecture and flying creatures that do not look like the dragons they have seen before; and, sending off a raven towards Dorne to tell them what they are about to do, the adventures that they hunger for, the love they bear for the four of their parents; they hold each other's hand and step through the veil.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment, I'd love to hear what people think!
> 
> I feel like there's hints that Jon would probably quite like to join the Sansa/Jeyne/Oberyn/Ellaria sandwich, so you can imagine that as an AU coda to this AU if you like...
> 
> my tumblr: [framboise-fics](http://framboise-fics.tumblr.com)


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